


somewhere between

by rockthecliche



Category: Johnny's Entertainment, NewS (Band)
Genre: Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-03
Updated: 2012-02-03
Packaged: 2017-10-30 13:33:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/332275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rockthecliche/pseuds/rockthecliche
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"But we've been through worse, under worse conditions."</p>
            </blockquote>





	somewhere between

**Author's Note:**

> Rah, this was something that has been festering in my mind since the 4nin split, so here you go.

It's with a small voice when Massu says, "Is doing a tour right now really a good idea?"

Tegoshi's eyes fly over the words written on the page but he doesn't actually see anything except _persevere_ and _prove them wrong_ and _keep going_ , one after another, row after row.

"Not doing it would be cowardly."

He knows it'll sting the moment it leaves his lips, but he's not going to dress it up and say that he doesn't mean it the way it sounds, hanging itself on the tension permeating throughout the room.

He does mean it. Wholeheartedly.

So he falls silent, shuffling his pile of papers around, looking for one that's not screaming at him to soldier on and on and _on_.

They have work to do.

 

At night, he dreams of years long gone, back when he was awkward and had weird teeth and didn't know the difference between trap rooms and green rooms; of no one knowing who the hell he was and why he was _debuting_ , of all things; of tiny karaoke booths and his fingers wrapped around smooth, sleek metal and his lips centimeters away from the microphone capsule as his vocal instructor criticized and harped; of those same karaoke booths and singing into those same microphones and having Massu's warm, welcoming presence right by his side.

The harmonies ring loud in his ears, some too sharp, some too flat, some in a different key entirely, but the end result is always the same -- haphazardly collapsing onto the bench, limbs sprawled out in every which way as they lean against each other for support more than the benchback itself, Massu's hair tickling his ear as they accidentally bang heads. A glance over his shoulder at Massu's contented face, his own body basking in the aura of a new found confidante and _friend_ , and Tegoshi lets himself laugh and thinks _as long as I have Massu by my side, I can do this._

 

When history repeats itself, the similarities scare Tegoshi a little bit but it's just another bump in the road. He's more mature now, understands the world a little more, treasures his experiences a little more, and Massu is still by his side. Despite their falling out, a time when Tegoshi was young and stupid and egotistical and so, _so_ stupid, he never once thought Massu wouldn't be there when -- _if_ Tegoshi needed him again. Massu, _his_ Massu, isn't like that, and though they've all changed in the years they've lived through, Tegoshi knows that that part of Massu will never fade, not unlike the part of himself that will always drift towards him for reassurance, comfort, and support, even if he's too stubborn to ask for it.

They practice their dance routine for the tour in silence; the music from the speakers, their sneakers squeaking against worn floorboard, the choreographer frustrated instructions, and various staff milling about take Tegoshi's mind off of everything except the dance, where his hands should go, how his body should move. Only when the staff calls for a half hour break do Tegoshi's senses sync up with the activity around him; he sighs and breathes deeply, scanning the room for his bottle of water.

He settles himself next to Massu, sharing a bag of arare between the two of them. Massu seems quiet today -- normally he would be going over the choreo at length with the instructor, but today he's sitting idly by, staring off into space save for the few times he reaches into the arare bag. As much as he wants to coax it out of him, Tegoshi stays silent; he draws his knees up to chest, wraps his arms around his thighs, and rests his head against the top of his knees.

"Aren't," Massu starts after a few minutes. Tegoshi turns his head towards him, looking at the other through eyes viewing the world on its side. He watches Massu swallow, throat bobbing. "Aren't you worried?"

_No_ , Tegoshi wants to say. There's too much to do to have time to worry. Besides, worry brings out the worst in people, makes people stop in their tracks and, quite frankly, there's already been _enough_ obstacles stopping them and Tegoshi doesn't think they need another. But a small, traitorous part of his mind informs him that there's a lot to be concerned about.

Tegoshi chooses to be honest this time.

"A little," he says. "But we've been through worse, under worse conditions."

Massu doesn't reply, intent on staring at his fingers as they toy with the hem of his t-shirt. He looks so small all of a sudden, not unlike a small child, clueless on what to do. It reminds Tegoshi of how he must have been like and acted, once upon a time, and it's a startling contrast.

Tegoshi reaches out, fingers tugging on the end of Massu's basketball shorts. "But we still have Koyama and Shige."

This, somehow, elicits a small laugh from the other man. Tegoshi drops his hand, poking at Massu's fist, fingers, wrist, the fleshy part of his palm not covered. "And we'll always have each other."

Massu's hand opens; Tegoshi lays his hand down against his, palms and the pads of their fingers meeting, lining up perfectly, evenly. He presses against his fingertips a tiny bit, happy with not really holding his hand, but touching nonetheless. He catches Massu's gaze, expression brighter than it was mere moments ago. Tegoshi thinks about all the times he's seen Massu's face go from cloudy to overcast to sunny, the same look of temporarily eased worries in his eyes and he considers that maybe Massu hasn't changed all that much. He's still the same stubborn, meticulously detailed and reliable Massu he's always known, and maybe the change is coming from within him instead.

But there's very little time left to dwell as their half hour is almost up. They help each other up, toss the empty arare bag into the garbage can; as they get back into the routine, Massu's steps are a bit more energetic than before, spirit reenergized. Right before the music starts back up, Tegoshi considers the possibility that maybe the change happened naturally -- he'll always have Massu, but maybe somewhere along the way, the opposite became true, too.

He catches Massu's gaze in the mirrors and, for some reason, smiles widely. For the first time that afternoon, they manage to do the routine perfectly.


End file.
